A Small Town In Kansas
by aliencatt
Summary: Sam is looking for 'that man' from the club in Metropolis and Dean is mistaken for someone else.  sequel/sister story to 'About to turn In'. SLASH...FAO. Warning..sexual violence, slight Wincest.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

**

* * *

****A Small Town in Kansas**

* * *

Sister story/sequel to 'About to turn in'.

Supernatural... season1/Smallville...season4.

Dean, Sam, Clark

Supernatural biased

* * *

"Why are we here? This isn't our usual kind of thing?" Sam asked whilst looking out of the Impala's windows at the small mid western town. The place was certainly colourful.

"Dude! 'Meteor Freaks!' You gotta wanna know if they're real or just something for the cover of Bizarre weekly?" replied Dean spotting a diner and pulling to the kerb in front. "Besides, what was all that weird stuff about cave paintings you were looking up? That was round here wasn't it?"

Sam hid his face from his brother as it went pink. Dean had crept up behind him whilst he was on the web intending to catch him looking at porn. But in actual fact, Sam had a much more intimate quest on his hands. He had been trying to find some reference to the symbol, certain it was some kind of rune, that had been around the neck of his 'mystery man' in that nightclub in Metropolis a couple of months back.

He had convinced himself it was just idle curiosity about the Sigel. That he did not really want to find the man who had given him an experience he was never likely to forget. Yeah right. And his prick had not just started to harden at the thought of him either.

Even if Sam could have forgotten the encounter, his brother would always remind him about 'jerking around' on the job after finding him in that corridor with his hand down his pants. He had not disabused Dean of the notion because, no matter how embarrassing it was to be thought to have been seeing to himself at an inopportune moment, the thought of Dean knowing what had actually happened was mortifying.

So he had garbled something about interesting 'mystic' cave paintings that had been found in a small town named Smallville. Dean had gotten excited about the afore mentioned 'Meteor Freaks' that he had read about on some website blog. So here they were. They had been passing close by anyway, two states away. But once Dean had gotten it into his head, there was no dissuading him, and Sam did not try too hard. It was a long shot but you never knew. Stranger things had happened to them. Much stranger.

Getting out of the car, the pair headed towards the diner only to find it 'closed for business'. "What else would it be open for?" Dean wanted to know feeling disgruntled. It was obviously a personal insult. He needed caffeine after driving for near six hours straight. Not to mention the 'facilities'.

Casting around, Sam pointed down the street. "There. Lets try that," indicating to something that looked to have been an art deco picture house at one time. Now the neon declared that it was 'The Talon' and just about the brightest thing about.

Shrugging his shoulders, with nothing better to suggest, Dean led the way nodding back to a greeting from a passing teenager. Fifty yards later he stopped turning to Sam. "Friendly bunch round here," commenting on the smiles and 'Hi's' and 'Hello's' he had received. Sam nodded in agreement as he had noticed it too, although to him, the greetings had come as an after thought and with a touch of curiosity.

"Okay. That's weird," Dean commented as yet another teenager said 'Hey' and smiled at him as he walked past.

"Our whole lives are weird. You know that." Sam laughed as he continued to look around the main street. He was kind of on edge but it was a useless feeling. Just because a guy wore a pendent, unique as it was, did not mean he had ever been in this place.

"Yeah but this is, 'have I got a doppelganger?' weird." Because he knew he was attractive but had never considered himself to be 'God's gift' to teenage boys. Girls, oh yes, but not boys. Not all of them anyway.

"How come?" Sam asked bringing Dean's attention back to his brother.

"Well, all these High School kids keep speaking to me and look surprised to see me."

"Huh," having no other idea of what to say to that.

"Yeah. But hey, at least they look happy surprised, not, 'I'm gonna call the Sheriff' surprised," Dean said with a grin.

"Jason!" shocked breathless and defiantly female this time.

The pair stopped and turned to look at a slim brunette, sweetly pretty with long straight hair. 'So not my type', Dean thought as she stared at him. "Erm.. sorry. But.. no," he said cautiously.

The woman grabbed Dean by the arm, pulling him away from Sam. "It's bad enough that you run off and leave without a word but don't pretend you don't know me." She was angry with the whisper loud enough for Sam to hear and raise his eyebrows smirking. Another conquest Dean had forgotten maybe?

Pulling his arm from her grip easily, he replied, "Look, I'm sorry you've been dumped…." not meaning it, "but you've got the wrong guy." And he stepped back.

She came closer, fixing him with a scowl. "Jason. This is not funny. Where have you been?"

"Look!" Dean said forcefully, getting angry himself, holding his hands up in a 'back off' gesture, "I'm not this Jason guy!"

The girl clearly did not believe him, then looked closer making Dean squirm. She must have seen something and stepped back, a shocked look covering her face. "I'm sorry." She admitted, "It's just you look so much like him. But maybe a little older, a little more worn." Then blushed realising her words.

"A little more _worn?_" Dean practically spluttered and took a step forwards.

Laughing, Sam thought it was time he interceded. Grabbing hold of his brother by the shoulders, he pulled him back before he did anything stupid. "Come on, Dean. ….. Sorry Miss," nodding at her, then Sam dragged Dean away from the confused looking girl towards the coffee shop.

==000==

Once inside the coffee shop, Sam thought Dean might calm down a bit, but he seemed to get worse, staring around him scowling, even with a forkful of the pie he had gotten him as a distraction held aloft. Dean must have been anxious indeed as the uneaten load landed back on the plate with an almost slam.

"What?" Sam asked. He kind of liked the place. It was lively and filled with colour, being so different to their usual haunts, complete with lots of conversation and laughter. It reminded him somewhat of Stanford, but the age group was a little lower. The after school hangout obviously.

"Can't you see it?" Dean asked in answer.

"See what?" looking around him once more.

His brother gestured, "They keep looking at me."

"You always think women are looking at you," 'and if not, you're always looking at them' Sam thought.

"No….. The kids. All those Lettermen kids!" and Dean nodded over at one, smiling a bit painfully as the lad called over, "Hey!" "See?" he asked.

And Sam did see something or rather someone over at the back of the place that made his pulse pound and his breath hitch. 'No it couldn't be could it?' He just was not that lucky. It was too much of a coincidence. But then again, there was always synchronicity or just maybe his research on a hunch had been correct. "Yeah … sure … whatever. Gotta go. See you later," he said distractedly and Dean tried unsuccessfully to grab Sam as he practically ran from the place.

"Dude! You can't leave me here alone!" through gritted teeth. But Sam was gone. "Oh, Hi," Dean answered as yet another High School kid told him it was great to see him back.

==000==

"Hey," Sam felt almost shy as he caught up to, damn, he still did not know his name never mind what to call him, mysterious stranger, lover, fuck buddy?

"Hi?" still walking along, looking a little baffled but obviously not wanting to offend.

Sam had not been certain at first that this was him. The demeanour was different, not to mention the dress sense and he looked much younger but, after surreptitiously watching and, yes, stalking the man for the last ten minutes or so since he left the coffee place, he had ascertained it was his 'partner' from the club.

He tried again, "So, you live around here?" Damn, that was so lame especially seeing the, 'oh crap it's a loony look' "I mean, you don't live in Metropolis then?" Not a whole lot better but at least the man stopped and turned to him.

"Sorry, do I know you?" the other asked, looking intently at Sam with a neutral but still pleasant look on his face.

Sam was crestfallen. He had been dreaming about his encounter with this man, could feel an attraction working his body just stood this close to him in broad daylight out in the street. The disappointment must have shown on his face as the man apologised again. "I'm sorry. You look familiar but… I can't place you," and sort of sheepishly shrugged.

He should take his remaining pride and just walk away, but the flip in his belly as he watched the man stand there and … just breathe stopped him. He had not been too chuffed about the bruises he had come away from the encounter with but he would not be averse to getting a few more. He had sort of planned on it. He tried not to be embarrassed as he had to remind the man who he was. Maybe he had as long a list as Dean but standing here, facing this 'youth'? it did not seem applicable.

"We met a couple of months ago…. In Metropolis….? In a nightclub..? The O…." and stopped at the look of almost dawning terror that appeared on the man's face which went pale then scarlet as he shuffled his feet looking everywhere but at Sam, acting for all the world like a kid caught looking at his Dad's porn. 'Been there done that' thought Sam.

"Oh….. Yeah….Hi?" He appeared nervous then looked up suddenly, a seriously worried expression on the young features. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Sam grinned, trying to lighten the mood of the strange encounter. It was as if the man was schizophrenic or something. Maybe every one around here had a double and not just his brother? "A bit but.." moving closer into the man's personal space, "…it was worth it."

"I … erm…..Don't really know what to say. I .. erm… wasn't quite myself?" looking really embarrassed and tensing as Sam's palm pressed against his chest. The man, youth, Sam thought him to be a few years his junior, looked at the hand then up into Sam's eyes studying his intent.

It was not often that Sam found himself at eyelevel with another person, so used to having to gaze down and a crooked smile curved his lips as his left hand moved to lie against the other man's side under his jacket. It was broad daylight, on a residential street in a mid western town, but he risked it. What he wanted was worth it.

The man did not pull away but tilting his head, looked at him quizzically. Leaning closer Sam's gaze flicked between the grey eyes and parted lips. "I want to kiss you," he breathed onto that mouth, not caring if anyone saw.

"Not a good idea," came the reply, equally low but still he did not pull away. "I'm not who you think I am." But Sam noted the fingertips pressing at his stomach.

"Let me find out?" He was in uncertain territory. It was a damned long time since he had 'chatted someone up' that Dean had not thrown him at and he wanted this man to like him. And that just made it worse as, it was a really long time since he had flirted with a male. He knew the other found him attractive. Hell, he had fucked him against a wall, all passion and ardour, but he did not know him and he wanted to.

"I can't. I sorry," and he took a step back.

Sam was not to be put off so easily and he held onto the man's shirt. "Take me somewhere. Somewhere I can touch you," after all they had history. There was no need to be shy. He made his intentions blatant, moving in close once more, his face inches from the other.

"I'd only hurt you," his head dropped, looking sad.

"I can look after myself," Sam assured him gently, tugging at the sides of the blue t-shirt.

"Everyone I like ends up getting hurt," almost a whisper.

"You like me then?" a grin splitting Sam's face that his brother would have been proud of.

"Yes," almost sounding shy if Sam could not remember what this man felt like ramming into him.

"So …. Take me …somewhere." A foot placed between the other's, pressing his body against him.

There was a quick in take of breath but then, "I have to go….somewhere." And the younger man retreated, using his hands to gently, but firmly, remove Sam's from his shirt. He looked down regretfully then and, as if realising he still lightly held the others hands, looked up and stared Sam in the eye. "If we do this, let's do it right. Let me take you out tonight."

"A date?" a little surprised and a little pleased, although he did not know how he would survive the wait as his boxers were already constricting.

"Yeah," colouring slightly.

"Okay," smiling. "Pick me up outside the motel at eight?"

"Urm. There is no motel in Smallville," sounding confused.

"Oh," Sam said nonplussed.

"Yeah, it burnt down. An …accident," guiltily.

"Oh," not really interested, just staring at the other's lips.

"How long have you been in town?" a little suspiciously.

"Only a couple of hours. We haven't got a room yet. Recommend anywhere?"

"We?" curious.

"My brother." A warm glow appeared in his belly at the hint of jealously Sam hoped he was not imagining. So with directions to Mrs Thompson's guest house, Sam swung around ludicrously happy at the promise to meet at eight.

"By the way I'm….." and Sam turned back, the smile still on his face. "Clark," and the 'stranger' held out his hand. Laughing, shaking the offered hand, "Sam," he replied.

==000==

"Jason?"

'Not again,' Dean thought. He had headed out to the street looking for his brother. He could not stand to sit in that place one moment more, especially as that simpering brunette girl had turned up again. This time, behind the counter, sending half curious, half reproachful looks at him. He had been wondering around 'down town', all three streets of it, and giving up, had headed back to the Impala figuring to wait for Sam there.

This time the voice had sounded stunned, sad and scared, all at the same time, and male. He turned to look at the figure as the youth reached for him then thought better of it. He looked up and up. Damn, he was nearly as tall as Sam but bigger, in fact he looked a fair bit like his brother. More than he himself did at any rate he thought. The man looked younger than Sam and also very nervous and regretful. Unlike the girl that had annoyed the hell out of him for some reason, Dean took pity on this kid. He looked like he was about to cry.

"No. I'm sorry, I'm not. Names, Dean," and he held out his hand smiling. "But you're not the first person around here to call me that." He faltered as the youth stared at his offered hand as if it would burn him. "And,…" he added laughingly, trying to bridge the awkward silence, "I seem to coach football." But the other did not take it lightly, instead he backed off, muttering that he was sorry and had to go.

Dean stood stunned but slightly amused as the figure practically fled from him, nearly tripping over his own feet. Well that was different.

"Huh!" he commented.

"What?" Sam asked as he approached, holding out a paper cup of coffee to his brother. Having found Dean had left the Talon, he had thought he had probably fled to his beloved car and … surprise!

Dean pointed after the figure but the boy had vanished. "Some guy thought I was 'the other one' again and nearly burst into tears." Then he accepted the drink.

"Huh!" was all Sam could think to say.

"Exactly. Can we leave now?" he had had enough.

"What about your Meteor Freaks?"

"They're all freaks in this freakin' place!" and Sam laughed heading for the car.

Once behind the wheel Dean asked, "Right. Where to? Let's go find ourselves a real hunt."

Sam panicked slightly. There was no way he was leaving Smallville. Not today at least. Still keeping his tone light, he answered, "No. I think we should stick it out for a couple of days."

"It's alright for you. You haven't got High School Lettermen traipsing after you wherever you go. Where are all the Cheerleaders? That would be worth sticking around for," getting exasperated over the whole experience.

"Jail bait," coughed Sam. But, 'No,' he thought, 'with me it's the other way around. I'm chasing school kids.' But he still could not think of, Clark, a name at last, as a school kid. He was a grown man. Well grown! "It's not that bad."

"Dude. Some kid just took one look at me and bolted!" hiking his thumb over his shoulder.

"But that's normal. If I weren't related to you I'd bolt," trying desperately to keep a straight face. Sam found the situation Dean was in highly amusing as well as curious.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Seriously. It's time we left."

"But aren't you at all curious as to who this Jason person is and why everyone is happy to see him?"

"Nope." And actually he was not really. He had had enough of look-alikes for one lifetime. "Let's go," reaching for the ignition.

"We can't," sounding more desperate than he intended.

"Why the Hell not?" Dean demanded to know.

"Maybe you should try and track that 'blog chick' down? You know, the one that coined that phrase you like so much?" 'Just don't make me tell you the truth,' Sam begged silently. He knew his brother well, very well, but was not certain on the reception an admission that he had a date with the real reason Dean had caught him in such a compromising position back in that Metropolis club would receive.

"Bet she'd turn out to be at school too,." Dean mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms, feeling really put upon.

"Still could be legal," Sam suggested.

"Or f'ugly. No one good looking spends that much time on the 'net," said with finality.

Sam gave an incredulous laugh. "Dude! I spend about half my life on the damn thing!"

"Point proven," Dean grinned wickedly, then reached forwards and switched on the ignition. "Come on. We're out of here."

"We are not!" anger covering Sam's panic.

Sitting back "I'll say again, why the Hell not?" also beginning to get angry.

"I've got something to do. Best get a room somewhere," not looking at his older bother.

"What something?" Dean turned on the seat, arm on the backrest to pin Sam with a suspicious look.

"Just something," none committal.

"Well let's do it and book." Why was Sam suddenly getting cagey?

"You can't come." Why did Dean have to know and argue about everything?

"Sammy?" spoken in that tone of voice that says, 'I don't know what you've done but I know you've done it and I know I'm not going to like it'.

"It's Sam!"

Dean recognised that inflection from the Kid's teenage years, "Sammy? You got a date?" laughing incredulously.

What was the point? "Yes," he admitted in a small voice.

"I don't believe it." Dean hit Sam on the back of the head. "Finally! Who is she? When did you have time to meet some chick without me there?"

"I had time." Not really wanting to lie to his brother but letting him continue with the assumsion.

"I guess I need to find a room after all 'cause little Sammy's finally goin' to get some? Let's hope it keeps your hands out your pants when were working, yeah?"

Would he never let him forget? Still, Sam did not rise to the bait. 'Quit while you're ahead' he told himself and stared out of the side window as Dean pulled the car away from the curb.

==000==

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

part 2

* * *

**warning**...non/con abuse...sexual violence

* * *

"What time is it?" Sam called from the bathroom.

Dean sighed glancing at his watch yet again, "What I said last time you asked, plus four minutes!"

"_Dean,_" exasperated and slightly panicky.

"_Deeean_," he mimicked quietly shaking his head then, relenting, called back, "A quarter to eight."

"Shit!"

Dean chortled at the noises from the bathroom. There was a crash as something fell into the sink and was accompanied by swearing. "You need help in there?" he called enjoying every moment of this. Sammy was fourteen years old all over again. It was amusing but sweet also.

"Damn it!" and Sam exited the bathroom giving Dean a look full of daggers.

"Hey. Only offering," as he held up his hands.

Sam let his shoulders slump, looking over at his brother sat on the bed, boots still on and beer in hand already. It was all so easy for him. Dean would not have been spending the last hour deciding what to wear, constantly changing both mind and clothes. It was stupid. He had already fucked this guy, or rather been fucked, but still he wanted to make a good impression. Sure, he was planning on a repeat performance but also because he wanted to know the man. That was where he and his brother differed too. A series of one night stands would never be his thing. That would never give Sam what he needed. Sam needed relationships.

He was not so unrealistic to know that, with their lifestyle, it would be a short one but still. All his thoughts must have been written across his face and for once Dean did not take the piss, instead saying, "Sam. You look great. You'll be fine." But as Sam smiled up through his fringe Dean could not resist adding, "For a freak."

"Thanks."

"Hey, don't knock it. You'll fit right in. They're all…"

"…Freaks around here. So you said," but laughed, feeling a little better. "Okay. I'm out of here. Don't wait up."

"I won't. I've got faith in you Sammy. Look! I only got the one bed!" the grin fit to split his face.

Sam had wondered at that but not for long, he had got enough to wonder about. Whether to go commando or not, for a start. So, shaking his head, he moved to leave only to stop and ask, "Where are you going?" as Dean made to get up off the bed.

"To go get more beer," Dean said innocently.

"You're coming to scope out my date aren't you?"

"…N..o" totally unconvincingly.

"You are _so_ not leaving this room," sounding determined whilst covering up his sudden anxiety. He had learnt a long time ago to never let Dean see his dates. Or rather, let his dates see Dean. And fixing him with a, 'I'm not joking' look, left the room.

Dean smiled knowing he had been rumbled and moved to the side of the window but the view was not great. Stood drinking, he watched as Sam left the guest house and sort of lingered looking, to his trained eye, nervous. It was not long until a red pickup truck pulled up to the kerb in front of his brother. "Huh!" he commented to himself as Sam hopped in and was driven away.

He smirked to himself. Good job the truck was not a Chevy as he did not think Sam was into, 'young bronking bucks', as the lyrics popped into his head.

Moving back from the window, Dean mused that that was more likely himself than his straight laced brother. It also got him to thinking that it had been a long time since he had enjoyed some male company.

Knocking back the beer, he put the empty down and picked up his phone. Opening another bottle, he retreated back to the bed and dialled. "You have reached John Winchester…." the message began.

==000==

"What're you doing back so early?" Dean said in surprise as the door opened to admit a disgruntled looking Sam. Figuring that he was stuck in this town for the night, while his brother hopefully got his end away, Dean was sprawled out on the bed in nothing but briefs and socks, beer bottle in hand, slowly drinking himself to oblivion as he literally hid out in the guest house. There was no way he was going outside.

Not unless it was to find this Jason guy and beat the crap out of him. He could not decide if it was because the bloke had seemingly run off and left unfinished business behind or because he was obviously so well liked and respected. A lot of people apparently missed him. No one would miss Dean. Except maybe Dad and Sammy of course but right now his brother was stood at the bottom of the bed staring at him with an unrecognisable expression.

Well not truly unrecognisable, but Dean could not ever remember Sam looking at him like that before, no matter how much he had pissed him off.

"What's the matter? Wouldn't she put out?" smirking, being his usual callous smart mouthed self, the alcohol having extinguished the slight prudence he should have used on seeing Sam's expression.

"You fucking Bastard!" Sam spat at him, his face twisting into a sneer that Dean finally registered through the pleasant haze he had created. He scooted back on the bed to sit up against the headboard but still relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. But it's not my fault if you couldn't close the deal," and laughed as he took another drink. No matter all the advice he had given him over the years, his younger brother was still so inept with the ladies. There were some genes they obviously did not share.

"What the Hell?" he cursed as the beer bottle was knocked from his hand to go flying against the wall, hitting hard enough to shatter.

It had been so quick and now Sam was stood over him, all of his six foot four frame rigid with anger as he hissed through a tight jaw, "Of course it's your fault. It's always your fucking fault. He doesn't want me anymore. Not after he saw _your_ face!"

Dean was about to laugh and make some cheep comment but Sam was looming over him and Dean now put a name to that expression. It was naked hatred. "It's always the fucking same," Sam continued, his head tilting to the right then coming closer and Dean fought the urge to shrink back. "They see _you_ and don't want to know me."

Dean watched Sam from slightly fearful eyes, his head turned away. He was beginning to think that Sam was about to lay into him and, sat on the bed as he was, he was at a great disadvantage but then Sam backed off, giving him a parting look of disgust. He let out a breath he had not realised he held and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Standing slowly, Dean was torn between demanding what the hell Sam was on about and consoling him as he was obviously upset. Then a thought jumped to the front of his brain. "Did you just say 'he'?"

Back turned towards him, Sam looked over his shoulder and stated, "Yes." Short and clipped.

"Huh!" Sam was looking at him as if he expected some crude comment or outrage. Actually Dean was too shocked to say anything. This was Sammy after all. Sammy, vanilla through and through. "Huh!" he said again and Sam just turned away from him.

Moving around the bed, pondering this new found insight, Dean opened two beers and handing one to Sam asked, "So who was it?"

"Clark Kent," sounding sad and deflated.

"Who's that?" speaking quietly, wanting to find out what went wrong so maybe he could come up with a solution and help Sammy have another 'crack' at him because, from his stance, his brother obviously liked the man. Man. Dean had another mental slap in the face. But it was still part of his job description, getting his younger brother laid. "Have I met him?"

Sam swung around looking at him in disbelief. "Of course you've fuckin met him. If you hadn't, I would be with him now not stood here with you!"

"So…" speaking a bit hesitantly as Dean could sense Sam's anger building below the surface. How the hell was this his fault?

"So…" Sam mimicked, his hand doing that winding, get on with it, motion.

"So…err.." not wanting to remind Sam that he thought him responsible just now, "… where did I meet him?" sounding quite sheepish, then taking a hit from his bottle, trying to hide his unease.

"Apparently, outside that Talon place. He's tall, well built. Brown hair. Clear grey eyes. Remember?" Sam stopped talking, trying to restrain the feeling inside. He had wanted him so badly. He still did. Hell, he had gotten them to come to this shitty little town just on the off chance of finding the man and now he had, Dean had ruined it.

"Nada. Doesn't ring a bell," shrugging his shoulders, taking another drink.

Sam could have hit him. He had spoilt everything and did not even know who Sam was talking about. His jaw was clenching up again and he felt a pressure behind his eyes. "He was wearing a blue t-shirt and jeans. Red jacket. Had a rucksack? … Ring any bells yet?" he knew what Clark had been wearing because seemingly he had come across Dean about ten minutes after he had made him so happy by agreeing to go on a date with him.

"Oh. You don't mean that High School kid that ran from me when he realised I wasn't this Teague guy?" a light bulb seeming to get switched on.

"Yes!" through gritted teeth.

"Yatzee!" and Dean foolishly laughed, gesturing with his bottle as he exclaimed, "Dude! He looks like you! Geek and all! You could be related…. Ewe …Dude! It'd be like doing your brother!"

"Him being my brother would not be a problem. It's _you_ being my brother that's the fucking problem!" his voice raising, pointing a jagged finger and beer bottle at the stunned man.

"Sammy!" hurt and angry all at once.

"It always has been!" Sam's anger was rapidly rising to the surface once more as he thought of all the times Dean had gotten in the way.

"Growing up. All thru High School. It was always you they wanted. Any girl showed an interest in me it was to get to Sammy Winchester's older brother." Sam was gesturing widely his beer splashing across Dean as he got closer. "Older, better looking, charming ' 'Ooh' have you seen that car? 'Ooh' have you seen those lips. Those fucking cocksucking lips of yours. Yeah, I know," nodding violently, "It wasn't just the girls was it Dean? Anyone you wanted would just…" clicking his fingers, "fall to their knees...open their legs for you and it's still the same now.

"Waitresses, barmaids, anyone, one and all. Every one wants Dean Winchester and his fucking beautiful lips. And…." laughing in exasperation, his eyebrows rising in incredulity, "even now, you've still got High School kids pining after you. You've got _my_ High School kid fucking weeping over _your_ face. Enough that I have to contend with that face next to me all the time now I'm no good 'cause you fuckin _look like_ the fuckin love of his life. Always, always the damn same. Even Dad didn't want me. You! Oh yes! You he wanted. You he loved! But Me? He never fuckin _touched_ me!"

"Sammy! No!" Dean's heart missed a beat, then another. No way. No way should Sam know what he had done.

"Don't try and lie to Me!" Sam threw his bottle at the wall over Dean's right shoulder, his hand swinging back to slam across his brother's face, the power and speed taking Dean by surprise, knocking him to the ground. Sam stared down at him then shaking his head slowly from side to side, "Did you and Dad really think I didn't know? That I wouldn't follow you to see what the big secret was? What you two did when you left 'little Sammy' behind?"

Dean could do nothing but sit there on the floor looking up at his brother, slightly shaking his head, trying to deny what they both apparently knew to be true. "Please, Sammy. You don't understand. You can't know wh…"

"Shut up!"

"Sammy, please."

"It's Sam. How many fucking times do I have to tell you?" and he took a swift step forwards and kicked Dean.

"What the fuck?" as he curled up, protecting his side, hands on the floor as he prepared to get up but Sam kicked him again knocking the breath from him.

"Always the fucking same!" Sam reached down and, grabbing Dean's arm in his strong grip, his right hand wrapping around the back of Dean's neck, he pulled his gasping brother awkwardly to his feet only to set him up for the punch.

Dean fell back onto the bed and managed to roll backwards and off the other side, standing ready as Sam came around, fist drawn back yet again. "Stop!" Dean yelled. But Sam did not. This time Dean was ready, blocking the punch and landing one of his own. Sam just stood, blood on his lip matching Dean's, and stared at him as if he was going to kill him. "What the fuck Sam?"

But Sam was watching those lips, not the words coming out. Everyone loved those lips. He had heard their father once praising those very lips and what they had been doing at the time. For every one Sam had ever liked that had ended tasting those lips instead of his own, he wanted to hurt them and the face they belonged to. Sam, at this moment, hurt so much he wanted Dean to feel it.

Dean was wary. He knew this, whatever it was, was not over. He could sense not only the anger in Sam but also, from years of practice, he recognised the stance. He was ready and as Sam launched at him, he used the only advantage he had. The knowledge of his brother's favoured fighting methods. He used the other's height against him but with each blow he blocked and the few punches he actually threw, he was tiring and Sam was getting angrier. He was in a rage.

Sam was not thinking. He was not thinking about the fact that Dean could give as good as he got. He did not think that it was Dean he was hitting. He was not thinking that it was his brother. He was not really thinking at all. But he was cursing. From his bleeding lips came an incoherent litany of all the reasons he was hurting so much, why his heart could not take disappointment after disappointment. It was bad enough the things that happened to them they had no control over, but something as simple as a date? And his brother had managed to ruin that without even being there.

Finally Sam got the advantage and, up on his knees, he continued to hit Dean as his brother curled on the floor, knees drawn up, arms protecting his head and neck. He was not punching anymore, he was more just dropping his hands, fists banging as he kept repeating over and over, "Why, Dean? Why?" tears streaking his cheeks. Then he let his fists fall for the last time and just knelt, shoulders slumped and head dropping.

Dean carefully peaked out from beneath an arm. Was it over? Had whatever set his brother off been worked out of his system? Moving slowly, he let his arms down and gingerly moved to sitting. Damn, he hurt. He looked at Sam. His brother appeared defeated and resigned.

They had fought before, many a time, but this had been different. He had held his ground but Sam had slowly gotten the upper hand. He had grown a lot in the four years away. Still young, but Dean had just had a lesson that Sam was no longer a boy. He was a man now and apparently stronger than Dean. Physically at least. Now he was kneeling there crying quietly, seemingly focusing on his bruised and bloody knuckles.

There was blood on his hands. His and Dean's. All he could do was breath and look at his hands. He was not going to think about what he had just done. He was not going to think of why he had done it. He could feel that the emotions swirling around his heart had not changed. Everyone knows that feelings came from the brain and not the blood pumping organ but it did not feel like it. As he concentrated on the hollow feeling in his chest, he knew exactly where it was centred. And the cause.

Fingers delicately touched the back of his hand and he raised his eye line to look at him. Him. Dean. The eyes looking back at him so full of concern were so clear, so green and so beautiful. The blood trailing from an eyebrow onto his cheekbone only emphasised the colour of his skin, slightly tanned, the freckles more prominent now summer had hit. Sam scrutinised that face, searching every inch, cataloguing the damage he had inflicted and attempting to analyse just what it was about this face that had so many people on their backs.

"Sam?" very quietly, bringing his attention back to those lips as they spoke. There was blood there too, just as on his own as watching Dean's mouth made him lick his lips. Those full lips that had kissed so many. Those lips that had their father so enraptured. They were even more swollen now, bruised as Sam had aimed for them, hitting Dean's face repeatedly. His face would swell and discolour but right now Sam just stared at those lips.

Reaching out a thumb, Sam used the pad to wipe away the blood on the split bottom lip making Dean hiss and take a sharp breath. He studied Sam in turn, his head tilting back and to the side slightly. Sam slowly licked his thumb making Dean's eyes open wider in shock. He was in slow motion, desperately not thinking about what he was doing. Desperately not thinking about what he was thinking of doing.

"Sam?" Dean asked again. This whole trip had been weird and now they were heading into the bizarre. Sam had such a look of concentration on his face, mixed with something else he could not quite define. At least the tears had stopped and the beating, but whatever this had been, was, it was not over. Of that Dean was certain. He needed to get Sam to talk, to explain what had just happened and what had caused it. If he had not sensed that the situation was still shaky he could have laughed. It was always his brother that wanted to talk things out, not him.

Sam pulled the thumb from his mouth, letting his tongue cover it with saliva then placed it on the right corner of Dean's mouth. He did not notice and would not have cared about the frown on his brother's face as, biting at his own lip, Sam ran the thumb along Dean's swollen bottom one. Dean pulled away slightly, opening his mouth to ask, "What the fuck?" quietly and Sam push his thumb onto the inside of that bottom lip, running it back.

Enough of this, Dean grabbed his brother's wrist, pulling the hand from his face and stiffly climbed to his knees but Sam broke free from the grip and, as his other hand circled to grasp Dean's hair, he repeated the motion, this time his thumb rubbing harshly across the slightly parted lips. Dean's own hands came up to grab both of Sam's wrists but he was not quick enough.

Holding the back of Dean's head, his other hand covered the side of his face as he surged forwards. He had to know what it was about the man's lips that had everyone panting for him. His mouth covered Dean's and he kissed him hard, mashing their lips together.

Dean pushed at Sam's shoulders, his fingers digging in through the fabric of the shirt he had helped him choose for his date. His brother's tongue was demanding entry and Dean clamped his jaw shut. The hand on his face, one of Sam's so large hands, moved around to grasp his throat and, as he continued to struggle, it tightened.

Breaking the kiss, Sam pulled back and with his thumb on that bottom lip again, told Dean, "Kiss me." At the slight shake of the head and the pleading look in the older man's eyes, he tightened his grip on his throat briefly. Dean's hands clawed at Sam's wrist, a tear leaking from his eye.

Sam pulled him up without changing his grip and pushed him hard against the wall. Once more he crushed their mouths together, thrusting his body against the other. Dean did not kiss him back but he stopped fighting. He could not.

He did not believe that Sam would seriously hurt him. The beating he had just received was nothing compared to previous injuries but that hand on his throat scared him. The expression in his brother's eyes was something he would never have expected to see, least of all aimed at him.

Dean went limp against the wall, judging that Sam would stop, that he would 'come to his senses' if there was no resistance. It worked as Sam lessoned the pressure but stared into his eyes searching for something. Dean did not understand this, any of it. What could he have possibly done to have made his brother treat him like this?

Sam studied the face before him. He did not see the blood or the flesh beginning to swell. All he saw were the beautiful eyes looking so hurt and worried. He saw the freckles that people find so adorable if they do not have them and he saw those lips. His hand moved from Dean's throat to cradle his face again but his thumb still dug into the soft flesh under his jaw. His other hand moved to lie on Dean's waist then slip down to the hip, fingers reaching around to spread on a buttock, squeezing briefly but with pressure.

He had to know, had to understand what the attraction was. Sure, he knew his brother was attractive but he had never thought of it in terms of having an affect on him. He had idolised his older brother over the years, had felt that hero worship but had never really thought about being with him other than companionship or comfort and safety. But now, as he looked at him, he felt something twisting in his belly and he had to know. He just had to.

Sam released his face but was not letting go. He was pressing his body against Dean hard and it took a moment for Dean to realise past the aches and pains of the pummelling he had received that Sam was rubbing his hardening prick against his own. He stared straight into his brother's eyes so close to his but Sam's eyes were dark, hooded and dropped to look once more at his lips as he struggled to speak for the hand holding his face hard, "Sam, please….stop this."

The thumb moved from his throat and Dean dragged in a breath only to turn to a gasp as the hand on his buttock gripped harder, pulling him forwards as Sam crushed their mouths together, forcing his tongue into Dean's mouth. Dean managed with difficulty to force his hands between their bodies and, hands on the front of Sam's shoulders, pushed with all his strength, twisting his body sideways as Sam gave a little. He managed to break the contact of their mouths and breathing heavily, holding the now still figure of his brother at arms length, he demanded, "Sam. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Sam stood breathing deeply, eyes fixed still on his lips but as he spoke, Dean saw the flare of anger rip across the brunette's face and stunned, he did not react in time as Sam drew back his right hand and once more hit him with a stinging full handed blow to the side of his head knocking him dizzy and disorientated. His knees gave out and he would have fallen but for the rage flowing through Sam that caused him to grab Dean and, putting all his weight behind it, slung Dean face first down onto the bed.

Sprawled out, Dean knew he should move and shaking his head, trying to clear his senses, he pushed up only to be knocked back down and have Sam land on top of him, pinning him down, spilling curses and commands into his ear. The breath forced from him, he could do nothing but lie prone as with horror he admitted to himself what was happening.

Time slowed to a crawl as he felt Sam lift himself up enough to unfasten his pants and push them and his boxers down. He told Dean to spread his legs and open up for him, just as he did for all those others, just as he did for their father.

He swore back at Sam, trying to rear up, to buck him off of him, but the only thing he could move were his legs. Frantically he pushed back, his legs trying to find purchase but the bedding just slipped beneath him then Sam reared up himself to kneel astride Dean's legs and, with one violent tug, Dean's briefs were ripped from him and Sam was forcing his legs apart, kneeling between, a hand pushing into the base of his spine keeping him trapped.

As one of Sam's so big hands pushed his thigh up, bending Dean's leg high out to the side, he started to plead with him. "Sam. Don't do this. Please. You can't do this. This isn't you."

"Shut your damn mouth. Stop fighting me. You give it to everyone else. Why the fuck not me?"

Dean's hands gripped the bottom sheet, either side of his head, as he forced his face into the pillow. The hatred and hurt he had just heard in that voice. How had he managed to anger Sam so badly? He could do nothing as Sam leant across his shoulders on a forearm and his other hand pulled his left buttock painfully to the side. Then he could feel his brother's prick begin to push at his arsehole. "No. Please… Sammy" his voice breaking into a sob on his brother's name.

All Sam could hear was the pounding of his heart, his blood rushing through his veins, deafening in his ears and from far off the sound of his brother calling out his name in fear. He froze. His brother was in danger. He stilled then tilting his head, he looked down and saw what he was doing, what he was about to do. Lifting his head he looked up and saw fear in the one eye of Dean's he could see as his brother's face was twisted to the side, watching him desperately.

With a cry of revulsion, Sam sprang backwards off Dean as if the contact seared his flesh and he crashed back into the wall, sliding down, arms covering his bowed head as he realised just what he had been about to do.

The door burst open, splintered wood from around the shattered lock preceding Clark Kent into the room. He looked around in horror as he felt a kind of 'deja vu'.

==000==

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

* * *

Clark had come to the guest house to see Sam, to try to explain why he had been so miserable and treated him so badly. He wanted him to understand that Sam had done nothing to deserve his cold shoulder and after explaining, possibly make it up to him. He doubted that if he told him all of it that Sam would ever want anything to do with him but he wanted to try. But on entering the corridor he had heard the pleading voice.

He registered Sam curled up against the wall, head wrapped in arms, sobbing brokenly but his attention went to the bed. "Jason?" he whispered confused for a moment then remembered that no, it was Sam's brother Dean who just looked identical to Jason. And it looked as if he had suffered the same fate.

Swiftly, he moved to the bed kneeling down and, picking up the crumpled bed spread from the floor, he gently placed it over the older man's body, trying to give him some dignity before he spoke to him.

Dean slowly turned his head at the soft calling of his name and the gentle fingers touching his face. "Sammy?" as his eyes could not quiet focus on the brunette blur staring at him so closely.

"No. My name's Clark. You're going to be okay. I'll call an ambulance."

"No!" trying to lift himself up but he collapsed back down with a pained hiss.

"But you need help," taking in the bruised, cut and swollen face. He did not dare touch him but wanted to do something to help, to make it better. This was not Jason, he had not caused this but he had to do something.

Dean tried again and this time, managing to get his arms under him, raised himself up, wincing as he tried to turn over, flinching from the young man's touch but then allowed his help to get him into sitting back against the headboard. His eyes sort out Sam. "Damn," as he saw the state his brother was in. If Sam looked like that what the hell did he look like? Sam had given him a much harsher beating than he had managed to return in self defence. "Sam?" he called over.

Looking between Dean and over to the hunched figure, Clark could not believe the concern in the elder's voice. It was so obvious there had been a fight but also Sam had done something really bad. He had done just what Kal had done. He did not deserve the tenderness of his brother's voice as he repeatedly called to him.

Slowly pulling himself up by the wall, Sam swung his head around to look at Dean through his hair, dishevelled over his forehead. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand. He had done this. He had done that to Dean. He had pounded on his face which was now covered in blood and beginning to swell. His lips were raw and bloody. Sam licked his own tasting that blood. He pushed himself from the wall, taking a step then looking down as his pants tangled on his legs. Turning away, he quickly pulled up and fastened his trousers, shame written all over his hidden face.

"I'll leave. I'll get my stuff… no, I'll come back tomorrow once you've gone. Just leave my stuff and I'll get….." and he headed for the door.

"Sam! Don't go," and Dean reached out a hand wanting to grab him, trying to get up from the bed.

"I have to go. I.. I can't stay. You… I can't. I'm sorry." He could not look at him. Could not face his shame.

"Don't! Don't you dare go," calling out to him as he moved to the door. Dean tried again to get up but it all hurt too much. "Stop him," he said, pushing at Clark who was still stood next to him but the man did not move. "_Sam!_" he called desperately as his brother fled the room. "Don't you leave me!..." shouting after him. "Please… don't leave me!" he whispered turning into a sob. Then head in hands, he wept as he was left alone. Alone.

Clark caught up with Sam as he ran down the narrow stairs, placing a hand on his shoulder, arresting his movement. "You can't go like this."

Sam shook off the hand, staring out defiance and hissed angrily, "What the fuck has it got to do with you what I do?"

Taken aback, Clark looked shocked at the fierceness of Sam's attitude towards him. "Maybe nothing but your brother is up there crying out for you."

Sam just laughed. He could not imagine Dean crying for anything least of all the brother that had just tried to… "He's better off without me," and turned to go, he did not know where.

Again Clark put a hand on him and spun him around. It was so quick Clark only just managed to turn his jaw away before the fist hitting him shattered against his face. As it was Sam winced at the pain in his knuckles already bloody and bruised. "This has got fuck all to do with you," knowing as he said it that it was not true but Clark did not need to know that.

"Maybe not, but I can't just let you leave after what you did to him. Why your brother would even want you to stay I don't know but you did not just hear the pain in his voice. You have to stay." He had so much to make up for himself and no way to do it. If there was anything he could do to help the man upstairs he would and to the one facing him now he wanted to explain, wanted to make it right. As if reading his mind Sam asked him, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I wanted to apologise. To explain and to maybe get you to give me another try. But I think that's pointless now," staring directly at him. There was no room for evasion now, no need for tiptoeing around. He knew they were alike. He had been 'drugged'. What was this man's excuse? Not that there could really be one. He himself was not innocent, Red K or not.

Sam fell back against the wall, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I would have liked that," said quietly. He had truly fucked this up. All of it and now he had irreparably damaged his relationship with Dean too. How could he have done that? He had beaten the crap out of his brother because this man had not wanted him. He was a piece of shit and, if the other was to be believed, Dean still wanted him around. Or was it just to get even? No, Dean was not like that. He was not like Sam. He was better. Much better.

"I think it's too late for us," Clark said, his voice tinged with regret. He had a lot to regret. It had all started three months ago with that gift from Chloe and he still had not managed to find out exactly who had had that pendent made. But his mind was wandering, that had nothing to do with what this man had done. "If nothing else, you have to persuade Dean to go to the medical centre."

A deflated laugh, "Dean hates hospitals." 'He spends too much time in them', he thought to himself.

'Me too', thought Clark. Someone he knew, he cared about, seemed to end up in Smallville medical every week. "He has to go. You hurt him badly."

"He'll be alright. He's had worse." Thinking 'he was none too gentle on me, either'. Could not the man see the state he was in too?

"_Worse!" _Clark's cheeks reddened with anger. "You callous bastard!" Sam stood straight, anger suffusing his face also. Clark pushed him back against the wall. "You've done this to him _before!"_ totally aghast.

"Not that it's any of your business but, yes, we've fought before." But never like this. He had never tried to …. do that before. He could not even think the word. "I have to leave."

"No. You have to go back up there. Help me get him to go to the hospital then face the consequences." If Jason had of pressed charges he would not have denied it.

But Jason was missing and although he had tried, he could not find him. He still wanted to. He had to tell him, had to explain and somehow get forgiveness even though he did not deserve it. Was it possible that Jason had been the actual target. Had someone known how he felt about him and exploited that? Is that why he had disappeared so completely? No. Surely not. But where was he?

"Consequences?" Sam asked puzzled. Was not it bad enough that he had to leave Dean? That Dean would not be safe with him around? That if this happened again, if Sam could not control his temper, the blinding fury he had felt, that next time he might not be able to stop himself? He might actually rape his brother, might kill him?

He was capable, no doubting it. This last year he had found that he was capable of a lot he never thought he could be. He had turned his back on all this darkness and violence, leaving the hunt but it was getting to him once more. He sometimes thought it was coming from inside as much as from without. In his darker moments, he thought there was something wrong with him, as if he was poisoned or something. As if it was in his very blood.

"Yes. Consequences." Clark fixed him with an intense gaze. "Sam. You raped a man and not only a man, but your brother."

"_What?" _He had not been there. He had not seen what had happened. He had stopped himself. It had been close but he had. He had stopped himself.

"I saw. I saw what state your brother is in. You can't deny it."

"Yes, I fuckin' can!" his indignation covering up his shame. And he pushed past to continue down the stairs.

Clark was about to follow and stop him from leaving but he heard noises from the brothers' room and he turned to go back, knowing there was someone up there that needed help.

==000==

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

* * *

Entering the room, he quickly moved to bend to pick up the man that so looked like Jason from the floor, placing him gently back on the bed and pulling the sheet over him once more. "What are you doing?" as he pushed him back down as gently as he could.

Dean fought this stranger, "Sammy. I have to go get Sammy." He tried to get up again.

"Stop. He's gone and you're in no condition to go anywhere but the hospital."

"No..o," pained as he fell back, an arm over his eyes, wincing as he caught the cut over his left one. He swore under his breath.

"Right. If you won't let me take you to the med centre, at least let me take a look at you," and Clark pulled the arm down and gently probed at Dean's face. He made a 'hum' noise them moved off into the bathroom.

Dean was too tired, too hurt to fight any longer and just stared at the ceiling, trying not to think but all he could do was see Sam's face just before he had thrown him down to the bed. A sob escaped him and he bit his lower lip, immediately regretting it. Then the kid was back with a cold wash cloth and he had to admit it felt glorious against his swollen cheek.

Clark slowly cleaned up the face that was so like Jason's. He could not get over the resemblance and thought to ask if they could possibly be twins but this man seemed a few years older, unless it was the life he had led. Maybe he had had it harder. He did not say anything but concentrated on cleaning up the blood on the man's neck and shoulders.

Dean was uncomfortable and not just from the beating he had endured. This Clark was looking at him in a perplexing way. All mixed up he could see concern, concentration, curiosity and yes, a hint of lust. His hands were gentle but every so often it felt more like a caress. As the man bathed his stomach then belly, Dean shifted causing his muscles to scream.

Clark looked up in alarm. "You're in pain." Not a question as such. He thought a moment. "I'll go get you some painkillers" thinking he could be home and back in an instant.

It would be an excuse to get rid of the kid but Dean could really do with the pills. "In my duffle. Over there under the dresser," pointing at the bag on the floor. "First aid kit."

Moving to the bag, Dean could see what Sam saw in the well built youngster but was still surprised at his brother for choosing someone that could be mistaken for his brother. A painful flash of his brother's lips crushing his own and he turned his face to the wall.

"Dean?" and he turned back to look at the youth crouching by his bag, holding up one of the guns it held. "What's this?"

"What it's not, is the first aid kit," and turned back to the wall. He did not have the energy. If he did not hurt so much he would be asleep by now. Then the kid was there, holding a glass of water and a couple of the strong pills from the kit that they used so much. He accepted with a grunt then lying back, he tried to give himself up to sleep but he was so conscious as the kid started to apply dressings to his face and neck. "You got no where to be?"

"No," simple and concise. Clark was not going to leave him in this condition. Besides, he would stay in case Sam came back. "Do you want..?" but looking at Dean he saw that he was asleep. Clark felt kind of guilty as he continued to tend to the man's wounds. His body was discoloured but still beautiful and he found his fingertips checking flesh that was not damaged.

There was a noise in the corridor and Clark shot guiltily off the bed, his hand catching the sheet and accidentally pulling it off the sleeping man. He could not help but stare then, realising that this man had been violated enough, he quickly covered him and retreated back to the small armchair in the corner.

==000==

Sam had not answered his phone in three days and it was eating away at Dean. He was pissed off at not being able to get out and look for him. Even if he could have gotten his left eye to open and enough painkillers into his system, this damn High School kid would not let him out of the bed, never mind the room.

In other circumstances, being held captive in bed by a hot young man with muscles and dimples in all the right places would have been appealing but he needed to know that Sam was okay and had not gone and done something stupid. It _was_ Sammy after all. He could have gone and done anything. Gotten into all sorts of trouble by now. He needed his big brother to keep him safe and what was more, Dean needed his younger brother. He just did.

What he did not need was anymore 'confessions' from this Kent kid. What he wanted to do was beat the crap out of him for what he had done to this 'Coach Teague', but guessed the drug used on him, the kid had been a bit vague about it, had sort of had the affect of being possessed, and that something that he could get his head around. Bet Jason Teague would not understand though.

He had finally managed to convince Clark that what he had seen was not what he thought. That Sam had not raped him, which he had not, but he left out that it was a damn close thing. And it was nice to have someone look after him, to listen to his stories and to feed him. Constantly. Wherever he was getting the food from, it must be close because he was never gone for more than a few minutes. Even when he went home to get changed, he was only gone half an hour.

The trips to the bathroom were awkward and not just because of the abuse on his body. He felt like saying, 'Damn it, kid. If you want to look, just look', but thought that that would make him go crimson, not just the rose blush as he caught him 'surreptitiously' eyeing him up. Dean felt like crap because, at any other time, if he had caught the kid's regard like this, he would have had him on his back, no arguing, but Sam liked him. _And_ it was because this Clark liked the look of Dean that Dean hurt nine ways from Sunday in the first place!

He could not touch this kid because of Sammy. Because of how much he obviously had been hurting over the whole thing and because of all the times he had snaked Sam's dates from him over the years. He had been a teenager and teenagers can be jerks, especially if it pisses off a younger sibling. It was another part of the 'big brother' job description.

Besides, he was not too sure that Sam would be able to stop himself next time Dean made him that angry. If he ever got the chance. If Sammy ever came back. He picked his phone up once more and dialled his brother's number. Miraculously he got an answer. "Where are you?"

"Dean. Are you alright?"

"Fine. Where are you?"

"I'm okay."

"I didn't ask if you were okay. I asked where you are."

"Would you send my stuff to Pastor Jim's. I'll swing by and pick it up."

"No. Come back here."

No answer but he was still there, wherever he was on the other end of the phone. Dean wanted to beg, wanted to plead, beg him not to leave him, not to leave him alone, but he was not like that, could not do that and Sam would know. "Sam. Get your ass back here now!"

"Dean… It's better this way." A world full of sorrows in one sentence.

"Get your ass back here. Now, before I have to hunt it down. And get this freak away from me."

"What? Who?" confused.

"He's your freaking boyfriend," exasperated enough to forget his recent lesson in prudence.

"Who? Clark? Is he still there?" surprised.

"Yes!" through gritted teeth.

"What's he still doing there?" 'with you' Sam wanted to add, but guessed he already knew.

Dean heard the hardening of his brother's voice. "Driving me freaking insane. That's what he's doing."

"Oh" non comitial.

"He's waiting for you to come back" spoken softly.

"I doubt that," full of scorn.

"Why?" wary.

"Come on. We both know he'd rather be with you," bitterness he could not hide creeping in to his voice.

"But Sam…." Dean admitted, "I'd rather be with you."

==000==

"Sam?" spoken softly as Dean sat beside him on the edge of the bed. It had taken another day but finally his brother had come 'home'. He would not look at him, but continued to stare past his clasped hands at the carpet between his feet. Dean twisted to the right, his left hand covering those of his brother. "Sam?" he asked again with a voice so full of concern it brought a sob Sam could not cover out of him.

Dean put his free arm around his brother, pulling him close, wanting to comfort him and to let him know it was okay. He knew Sam had not beaten him in spite. He had been hurting. Things had just lined up in a way that had hurt him so much and he had not been able to contain that hurt. Dean had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and with, he knew, the wrong attitude to understand. So he had been an asshole and things had 'gotten out of hand'.

He did not blame Sam for what he had done, for what he had tried to do. There was nothing to forgive because Sam had stopped himself. He could not have. At that moment in time, Dean did not believe that he would have been able to stop him. If Sam had not been able to get himself under control at that moment there was no doubt that his brother would have raped him.

But it had not come to that. Sam would never be able to do that. He was not that kind of man.

How could Dean want to do this? To be so close to him after what he had done? But that was Dean through and through. His elder brother loved him. No matter what. He always had and, Sam was sure, always would. Sam prayed that Dean would never change and that one day he would be able to repay his older brother's devotion. Right now he just leant into the sturdy frame beside him which was ever ready to catch him as he fell.

"Dean. I am so sorry. I can't expect you to forgive me. You shouldn't forgive me." He did not raise his head, he was not sure he would ever be able to look Dean in the eye again.

"There's nothing to forgive, Sammy. Sam," clutching his far shoulder and giving him a slight shake.

"Please don't do that." And Dean took his arm away as if burnt. That broke Sam. "No." He slid off the bed to kneel in front of his brother, between his legs. Rising up on his knees, he was at eye level. Sam grasped Dean's hand between his own and finally looked him in the eye. "Dean. Don't pretend I did nothing wrong."

"It's okay. I understand." Dean wanted Sam to stop this. To just stop beating himself up, no pun intended, over something that was over. He gazed into his sibling's face, seeing the face that had had him captivated in one way or another since the day he first saw him in his father's arms at the hospital.

"No… Dean. I…." sounding pained.

But Dean would not let him finish because gazing into those so sad eyes he discovered something about himself. He put fingertips to the corner of Sam's jaw and pulling his face forwards and moving closer he said, "Sammy…" and leaning over whispered, breathing into his ear, "If you ask me, I won't say no." Then he sat back and just waited.

Sam could not believe what he had just heard. His eyes opened wide and he studied Dean's face. He could see no guile, no derision. It was not a joke or a wind up. All Sam could see in Dean's face was love. His eyes welled up and he had a brief thought as his bottom lip began to quiver that the next words from his brother's lips would be telling him, 'he was such a girl'.

Another sob escaped his lips and Sam threw his arms around his brother's waist and pushing his face into Dean's neck, he let the tears come, feeling arms tightening, wrapping him in safety and welcoming him home.

==000==

Having finally left Smallville, then, a week later, Kansas behind, driving past field after field, Sam surreptitiously watched his brother relax a little more with each mile they put under the wheels. He did not say anything. He had said enough, too much, for a lifetime. He would never forgive himself for what he had done, what he had done to Dean, no matter that his brother had forgiven him.

But that was Dean all over. He would blame himself and carry the guilt for a lifetime but in his eyes, Sam could almost do no wrong and if he did, there always had to be a damn good reason for it. Sam loved his brother for it but knew he was misguided. He did not deserve his brother's loyalty. He realised that and therefore was even more grateful for it.

And now Dean had also offered him his love too, the physical kind. Sam found his eyes drawn to those lips which he had so recently blamed so much on. He wondered what they would feel like against his own, what they would taste like willing and not covered in the copper taint of blood. Unknowingly he licked his own as his study became more obvious. Turning on the seat he spoke over the music, "Dean?"

"Yeah?" glancing over at him

"Can we find a motel?"

Dean let his eyes leave the road, looking askance. "We've only just set off. We can go for hours before we need to stop." Having been cooped up in that guest house, then that highway motel for over a week, he wanted to feel the road under his wheels. He needed to put Kansas far behind. It only ever brought trouble and pain every time they visited their home state.

"Oh," Sam felt deflated and starred out of the window seeing very little.

Dean glanced over again, "Sam?" But his brother just seemed to shrink in on himself so Dean filled the space with his own current musings. "I thought _my_ life was fucked up."

"Yeah." Sam agreed with him because their lives were essentially 'fucked up'. Always had been.

"Still, it could be worse," Dean reasoned.

"Yeah?" Sam was not sure how.

"Yeah. I could be Jason Teague," feeling eminently bad for the poor bastard.

"Right." Sam still found it hard to comprehend how the man that had made him feel so good in Metropolis had just the day before that done such a terrible thing to his Football Coach. Then he felt like shit. Was he so different? He had come so close to doing the same thing to his brother. Worse in fact, because with him it had been pure rage.

"Let's just hope there're no more versions of me out there." If so, Dean hoped they would have a better life than that of a wanted 'fugitive', a rape victim or a serial killing shapeshifter. Damn the bastard! That freak had hurt Sam and now Dean could not even use his own name for fear of the outstanding warrant. He might not be the poster boy for clean living but what he hunted was monsters not prey.

"Yeah." Sam turned back to look at his brother, at the slight frown marring that face. He wanted to sooth it away. They had so little in their lives. He determined that they should make the most of what they had and between them he knew was a hell of a lot of love and recently revealed, as he felt it stirring, desire. "Dean. Find a motel."

==000==

**

* * *

****Epilogue**

* * *

==000==

In the dark silence of the night, a group of children stealthily make their way up onto the open space of a rooftop in the woods of Gillette, Wyoming. There, they huddle together around a fair skinned boyholding a picture of a lady dressed in blue.

==000==

==============end=============

* * *

**Author'sNote ...**

I had already written a slightly different scenario ending but as I broke a tooth in half this morning, and therefore had to go and have it pulled out, I thought….. I know…!

And yes, it was a big one at the back(wisdom tooth).

And now the anaesthetic is wearing off**!**

* * *

If you have gotten to this point, please let me know what you thought of the story, good or bad.

My Smalllville/Supernatural crossovers do not seem to be popular and I'm not sure why.

Cheers, the Catt.


End file.
